


The Past

by natashasbanner



Series: Prompts [72]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-07
Updated: 2019-01-07
Packaged: 2019-09-23 21:36:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17088182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/natashasbanner/pseuds/natashasbanner
Summary: Natasha takes Bruce to Russia.For the prompt: Bruce and Nat go to Russia





	The Past

**Author's Note:**

> Please enjoy :)

Bruce had been surprised when Natasha suggested the trip. Her last trip to her home country hadn’t been great, dragged up horrific memories that she was still struggling with. But she’d been insistent when she’d booked the flight and hotel so he just decided to see where this was going. 

The flight was long, and Bruce was getting restless. Natasha reached for his hand over the arm rest between them and squeezed his hand. She was so calm. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t worried, but he’d decided to follow her lead before they left New York. 

They landed in Moscow a couple hours later and caught a cab to their hotel for the night. 

Bruce dried his hair as he stepped out of the shower, feeling refreshed after the long flight. Natasha was sitting cross legged in the center of the king sized bed. Her tablet was resting against her legs, her brow furrowed as she scrolled through it. 

“What’s that?” he asked and sat on the edge of the bed. 

Natasha looked up, her lips quirked slightly. “Our itinerary for the week.”

“Am I allowed to look now?” he teased when she tipped the tablet away from him. 

“Not yet.” 

“You know, this wasn’t exactly how I imagined spending my spring break.” 

Natasha smirked and leaned back against the pillows, stretching her feet out to poke him lightly with her toes. 

“What did you have in mind?” 

“Well,” he grinned and ran his fingers along her calf. “It involved you and me, on a beach somewhere warm.” 

Natasha laughed. “Sixty two degrees is plenty warm.” 

“Maybe to someone who was born here,” he teased and he grabbed her ankle to pull her down the bed. 

He crawled up her body, feeling his towel loosen around his waist. She smirked and hooked her leg over his hip, pulling him flush against her. He held his weight on his elbows on either side of her head. 

“Next time, you can pick where we go,” she bargained. “I just thought you’d like to see where I came from.” Her gaze flicked away from him and she sounded uncertain. 

“I do,” he promised and ducked to press a trail of kisses down her neck. 

He’d taken her to meet his aunt and cousin a few weeks ago and they’d spent hours telling her stories about when he was a kid. Natasha had enjoyed every minute and this was her way of returning the favor in a way. Bruce found it terribly endearing. 

* * *

The next morning they took in some of the sights around Moscow, joining a group of tourist like they’d been there all along until someone realized they hadn’t been. In the evening, they got on another plane to fly to the area where Natasha was born. They spent another night in a hotel, and in the morning Bruce prepared for another day of sightseeing.

But Natasha had other plans in mind. There was a rental car waiting for them in the hotel parking lot and Natasha drove them away from the city. 

“I want to show you something,” she explained after they were on the road for a good thirty minutes. 

The drive all together took a little over an hour and they ended up on the outskirts of a smaller town. The cemetery was small and it wasn’t long before Natasha put the car in park a the end of the winding road through it. 

“Is this where you found your parents?” he asked quietly. 

Natasha nodded and got out of the car. Bruce followed suit, taking her hand as she rounded the car. She lead the way through the grass, still wet under the shade of the trees surrounding them. She stopped at the end of the row in front of a flat stone nearly covered by the overgrown grass. 

‘Romanova’ was etched across the top of the small stone with the names of her mother and father along with their birth and death dates. Natasha bent down to brush some of the grass away. She stood up and stuck her hands in the pockets of her jacket. 

“I don’t remember them at all,” she said quietly. “I had found the records of my birth and tracked them here. It took awhile, the Red Room made sure to get rid of most of it.” 

“You’re smarter than they were,” he said, placing a comforting hand at the small of her back. 

He caught her brief smile before she said, “Slightly.” 

“He lived in the town his whole life and she was from Moscow. They got married and had me not long after. I hadn’t even started school yet when they died and that how I was brought to the Red Room.” 

“Do you know how they died?” 

“There are too many differing accounts to know for certain,” she sighed and scoffed her foot through the grass. “I guess it’s better than not knowing, wondering if they’re out there somewhere.” 

Bruce wasn’t sure what to say that might comfort her in this moment. He just rubbed his hand up and down her back in what he hoped was a soothing motion. She turned into him and pressed her nose into his shoulder. He held her tight until she pulled away, swiping a few wind swept hairs out of her eyes. 

“Thank you for coming with me.” 

“Always,” he said earnestly. 

With one final look at the stone, Natasha turned and headed back for the car. She didn’t speak until they were out of the cemetery and back on the road to the city. Her shoulders relaxed and there was an easy smile on her lips. 

“What should we do the rest of the day?” she asked. 

“We could take in the sights,” Bruce suggested. “Join another tour group.” 

By her sly smirk and raised eyebrow, it seemed like Natasha had other ideas in mind. 

“Or we could relax at the hotel, order in some room service.” 

She laughed and reached over the center console to take his hand, twining their fingers together. 

“I like the sound of that.” 

Bruce brought their hands up to brush his lips over her knuckles and let out a content sigh. 

“Me too.”


End file.
